Asceticism
by decuvieri
Summary: Pyunma and Albert spend a day doing chores in preparation to leave Japan. Little does the German know Pyunma's secretly pining after him.
1. Identitiy

**Category:** Cyborg 009  
**Rating:** PG   
**Genre:** Romantic Fluff (Shounen-ai, 84)  
**Summary:** Albert and Pyunma go on a shopping trip. Francoise makes it more than that.

Asceticism

Reading was one of the things Albert Heinrich had enjoyed to spend his life doing the most. Often the German found himself scavenging whatever kind of tome he could in his poor communist city that didn't have many in supply. His was a mostly illiterate region as people worked by repetition as apposed to learning about what they were doing. Reading was not a necessary skill for factory workers, and books were often expensive. They were a luxury that most felt they did not need, so instead they bought more practical items. 

It was disheartening to Albert how so few of the people around him shared his mislaid passion. His neighbors, good people in all respects, frequently asked him why he hid himself in a world of words when he should be searching for a wife and starting a family. His answer, always consistent with a good natured smile, was that after having the experience of literature once it was unlikely he could bear life without it. In return they called him a dreamer, and perhaps he was, but at least he was happy. 

He worked in a dreary textile factory like thousands of others, doing the same thing rotation after rotation, day after day. His pay was enough to just scrape him by for his two room apartment and enough food to sustain him. He had no car, television, or radio (as the media of East Germany was very controlled by the government at that time), so he passed his hours after work at the open park. When it was warm he'd find a place and let the hours drift away in a soothing bliss doing whatever he felt like doing. 

It was actually his third time reading a tattered copy of Thus Spake Zarathustra - he never could figure out why some people read a book once then discarded it - when his life changed. He was being courteous as he was raised to be by helping a woman carry a large box of blankets and clothing that she had been struggling with. It had started out as plain and simple as that. They spoke graciously to one another, and interests began to snowball into a much larger fascination. Albert, though a regular inhabitant of the park in the warm months anyway, found himself usually more interested in finding the woman again rather than reading his volumes. She, in turn, was equally delighted when they happened to "run into" each other nearly every day. It was obvious that the encounters were hardly by chance, but the two young people liked to put up the facade. It was a game, of sorts, that allowed them to conceal thier brilliant affections behind mild-mannered fondness. 

The game was eventually dropped, of course. There came a time when the two had become so infatuated that there was no need for idle toying, and there was no longer a reason to hide their avid passion. Within months Albert had proposed to his soul mate, whom eagerly excepted with tears of happiness. 

Still, the young man felt that he hadn't done enough for her. Yes, she seemed to be content with her life, but he wanted to give her more. What he wanted was to offer her the entire known world, but that was something beyond his ability to give. Few material possessions interested his lover, which seemed fitting in a different respect: there was no diamond or menial piece of jewelry that was eloquent enough, in Albert's opinion. 

In the back of his mind he knew the one thing above all else that was worth of his bride-to-be's attention, but, like the world, that was beyond his giving. Sometimes he had seriously considered attempting to obtain it, and how to go about doing it, but the risk was so high... Just a week before a man had tried to scale the Wall, attempting to gain back the freedoms he had once taken for granted. The nameless face was shot down by East German guards - his own people! - for his attempt to escape. 

Albert, suppressing a shudder, put aside the thought of trying to do the same. 

Weeks passed slowly in the polluted town of mills and work shops, and things seemed to only get harder on the couple. In the winter as wages went down, prices on about everything went up. With the cold came illnesses, and medicine was expensive. One of the neighboring families to them lost an infant to pneumonia, and an elderly resident nearby was suffering from a severe case of influenza. Sicknesses like these were most commonly spread through the working place where sanitary precautions were rarely followed. Dozens died every year from this method, and Albert was a bit shaken to find his wife had returned home early one day, pale and drowsy beyond the norm. 

After several days of practically having to beg her to eat Albert knew that there was no choice left. They had to escape this country. 

He finally told her of his intentions to flee the communist's reach. Some people had managed to slip through the Wall's security and escape into Berlin, and this provided some encouragement. He was still hesitant to take the action, despite. However, when she put her hand to his face, slender fingers cradling her future husband's cheek and approved the idea there was nothing more that needed to be debated. 

"We can make it," she said to him, pale lips forming a gentle smile on her delicate face, "Others have before us. We have the need and the desire. I know we can do it." 

Albert pulled her form close and rested his face along her neck. She hugged him as if trying to dispel his obvious fears with her beaming confidence. 

"I'll see what I can find," he answered, taking in her sweet, familiar scent while trying to soothe the tense beats of his heart. "I will find a way, I promise." 

The warmth of the embrace was relieving beyond any extent. All the problems of the world seemed to be thrown back when they were together. But the feeling eventually faded, and forcefully ripped from the tranquil dream, Albert's heart lurched painfully in his chest.

* * *

Fate had bad timing, the fourth cyborg had learned. That, or Fate just enjoyed playing the role of the antagonist. One or the other. 

He sat up in his bed attentively and stretched, trying his best to look alert even though he had just been in a sound sleep. The act was lost on empty space, however; the other beds in the basement of Doctor Kozumi's house were already neatly made and the room was otherwise abandoned for the mornin 

The German, no longer putting up his little display of keen sensory, groaned under his breath and rubbed his eyes. Some noise had roused him from his rest, but he was unable to place it. Being a light sleeper himself, it could have been any little sound coming from the house. Regardless, he wouldn't be resting any more that morning, so he began to pull himself from his bed. 

It had been another one of _those _dreams. The conventionalized, tell-tale reverie where he had been granted the bliss of being back home before he had turned his life upside down, lulling about in a state of euphoria while in the arms of his now-deceased wife. Of course he always awoke from it, occasionally having the sensation ripped away from him just before being able to steal one last kiss from her soft lips. What he wouldn't give to just have that opportunity just once more. 

The red uniform was hung neatly on the head board of his cot, likely compliments of Zero-Zero-Three. Next to it was a more casual set of clothes that would stand out less than his crimson battle uniform in the public eye. He pulled the articles of the clothing from the hanger and shook the ironed creases out deftly. Today would be the last day the cyborg team resided in Japan. They'd been discovered, attacked several times, and spied upon. The ship, painted and still nameless, just needed some last minute checks and restocks before departure, and once addressed they would be off by noon the next day. 

He pulled the khaki pants up over his waist and pulled the black belt taut around him. He'd probably go into town with some of the others today. Pyunma and Joe had been talking about getting foodstuffs yesterday, so he'd just tag along with them unless his assistance was especially needed by somebody else. 

The ceiling above his head began to shake with several loud thumps that caused the level to shake slightly. Looking up for no particular reason, Albert figured that the noise that had originally had woken him up must have originated from upstairs. It sounded like some one was stomping around, or, more likely, trying to stop themselves from falling over. 

By the time he had gotten his black turtleneck over his head and adjusted the material around his neck another, much louder _WHUMP _rattled the house thoroughly. The man sighed, knowing that whomever had been trying to catch their fall earlier had apparently just failed. 

On his way to the stairs Albert passed a mirror. His hair, for the most part, had fallen into presentable shape on its own. His machine gun hand, concealed under a glove crafted from a flesh-like material, would not draw undue to himself. For the most part he looked presentable, so he took it as that and started upstairs. 

On the main floor, just as the man had expected, was a party of cyborgs. Zero-Zero-Seven was hidden behind a newspaper (printed in Japanese, so why the Englishman was reading it, Albert had no idea), and Pyunma, remnants of some toast in hand, was leaning back in his chair and straining to see into the living room. Why the African was grinning so widely was beyond Heinrich. 

"Morning," he said, taking place at the large table. The group's reaction was quite devoid of energy. Perhaps due to a lack of focus. 

The ominous thumping about the house soon started up again, but this time the German was able to hear the banter going on amidst it. From the room that Zero-Zero-Eight had been examining so intently emerged the two teenaged cyborgs Jet and Joe. It was not surprising to see that the two each had a firm hold on the other, though Jet had a better grip on the smaller Japanese boy and was quite successful in pulling him to the floor. As the wrestling match continued on just feet away, and Pyunma laughing until he was out of breath, Albert merely reached for a plate that had been set in the center of the table to dish up his own breakfast. 

From the kitchen came the lean form of the team's female member, Zero-Zero-Three. In one hand was another plate of eggs to replace those eaten while the other held a pitcher of fresh orange juice. With her came Albert's first descent form of greeting he'd received since his arrival. 

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" 

"Until the house threatened to collapse over my head," he replied jokingly, nodding his head over at Jet and Joe. Francoise's face turned from cheerful to annoyed in a matter of seconds. 

"I'm sorry," she said to him, placing the food on the table and taking away the empty plates, "I told them to stop horsing around so you could sleep in. They never listen." 

"Maybe they just couldn't hear you over the noise." 

"So, what all is on our agendas for today?" Pyunma asked, pulling his attention away from the rough housing of the two boys, "Are either of you two planning to come into town with me later? I really don't settle well in public places alone." 

"Joe isn't going with you?" Francoise asked, and Pyunma shook his head. The Japanese cyborg must have been instructed to instead act elsewhere, but that didn't need to be said. "Well, I don't think I can. Dr. Gilmore asked that I help with some maintenance on the ship we planned to do before tomorrow. Perhaps some of the others...?" 

The dark skinned man shrugged. "Zero-Zero-Five and Zero-Zero-Six are on watch shift right now, and Two and Nine will have to rotate with them while they rest." He paused, a scowl coming to his face. "And Zero-Zero-Seven here jus' flat out refused." 

The trio looked at the English actor expectantly, and he could feel the holes being burnt into him from the other side of the paper. He, knowing the only way to shake the stares, sighed and lowered the reading material. 

"What our friend here fails to mention is the fact that I was volunteered to attend our other sentries out in the field. It would seem that Gilmore is quite intent on making sure nothing threatens our beloved Doctor Kozumi after we leave." 

As he hid himself back behind the paper wall, Pyunma looked to Albert. Albert, however, spoke first. "I've got no conflicting plans. I was thinking of going with you, anyway." The African nodded. 

"I'll have the entire list of things for you to pick up ready before you leave, then," said the French woman, heading back with empty dishes in hand.

* * *

Francoise had very neat, small handwriting. Very fit to the line, clean, and, once again, small. Though, for some reason, that didn't stop the fact that the grocery list was nearly three list pages long. Albert was slightly overwhelmed. 

"I see why everyone backed out of this trip now." 

They were cruising down the dirt road to town in Doctor Kozumi's red convertible, Pyunma at the wheel (as Albert was inherently a terrible driver with anything smaller than a semi). Trees lined both sides of the road for a couple of miles, but the cyborgs had had their fill of tranquillity and were quite ready for a change of scenery. 

"It usually takes three t' four trips to get everything home, but I'll see if we can make some sort of arrangement to cut down on the driving," said the other with a sideways grin. As a finish to the thought he took his eyes off the road and peered at Albert over his dark sunglasses, "You've never done this before?" 

"Never. I always get stuck with watch duty." 

"Lucky you." Albert didn't necessarily like the laugh Pyunma had let slip after that. 

By the time they had gotten into town Albert had somehow managed to wade through the entire list, picking out things that he didn't know what they were and asking his partner about them. Between the two of them they were able to decipher the entire list with the exception of something called 'pocky' which Zero-Zero-Nine had requested specifically. 

"Just keep an eye out for it, I guess," the driver had said with a shrug. 

The problem with sending the proclaimed 'merman' and 'god of death' out do to errands was the fact that it often left an uncomfortable silence. Both cyborgs were generally quiet, but there was some sort of wind that made both feel like they were obligated to start up a conversation. Finding a suitable topic was difficult, however. What was there to say, really? _Oh, how are you? That's good. Me? Oh, nothing much. Have just been fighting an evil syndicate of mass murderers to save the world from oncoming doom. Oh, you too, huh?_

Pyunma rolled his eyes. Thankfully, his sunglasses hid the awkward gesture from Zero-Zero-Four. 

Albert stretched his arms above his head. "So, besides buying out the entire market, is there anything else we should do out here?" 

"Well, nothing we were specifically asked to do, but the car needs an oil change. I think we owe it to Mr. Kozumi to have it taken care of." 

"So, d'you want to drop me off at the market and go get that looked at? Then we can just meet whenever." 

The plan was agreed on. Pyunma let Albert start on the grocery shopping while he was take the convertible to the nearest mechanic. Watching Albert get out of the car caused a strange sense of relief in the former slave's chest, though why he was bothered in the first place was still a conjecture. 

It wasn't that he didn't like Zero-Zero-Four, but more that he wasn't sure how to act around him. Not often did the German express interest over anything, and Pyunma didn't want to babble on like an idiot in search of a topic. This made conversing with the other beyond difficult, but he really did want to speak with the other man. The truth was that the marine cyborg, while not usually very talkative, was quite social when he found somebody who shared similar opinions and concerns. Unfortunately, in the group of cybernetic humans he now called a family there were few people who cared to sit down and talk. 

His disappointment of always being the odd man out of the nine cyborgs was depleted one day. While scanning an article over America's nuclear bomb testing Pyunma had sensed a presence behind him. Sure enough, there was Heinrich reading over his shoulder. Once the two had made eye contact the man shook his head with a morose look. The reason for this display was obvious: more weapons meant for total destruction being developed without any thought of the thousands of souls who'd suffer because of it. 

"And they'll never know what hell they're going to cause by using those things." 

This statement had triggered a long conversation between the two that passed a couple of hours, but they hadn't really spoken since then. Too much happening, really, with the Black Ghost aggression and all. 

Pyunma, having left the car at the body shop, was following the sidewalk back to the market. Hands in his pockets, and stared down at the concrete as he passed, only vaguely aware of where he was going. This was the first time in weeks he and Zero-Zero-Four were both able to just talk about anything, and go figure they'd split up. 

He couldn't understand his own behavior. Why be so careful with his words and actions around Zero-Zero-Four? He was just another person like anybody else, but still Pyunma had the nagging voice in his head that told him to act proper and mature when in his company. It was very strange. 

Despite the market's large size the African found his counterpart relatively quickly. Just in time, it seemed: Albert was clearly confused at something or other just by the telling of his raised eyebrow. 

"Problem?" he asked in place of a greeting. 

"Is there a difference between yellow peppers and red ones?" 

"Well, I think one kind is yellow and the other is red." 

"She didn't specify," the blonde explained, holding up the list. On it was just 'peppers', plain and simple. "You think she meant all kinds?" 

"Um... We should probably go a dozen of each, just to be safe. Whatever isn't used can be frozen." Since it was the only thing they could really do Albert shrugged and complied. "How far did you get on the list?" 

"All of the cereals, teas, and this is the last of the produce. Did the mechanic take in the car?" 

"Yes. They said it would only be a couple hours. They didn't seem t' be very busy, so I don't think it should take even that long." 

"Good. I checked with a clerk; he said they do deliver large orders, but that's for things like assemblies and would take overnight to ship. I didn't think they'd be able to get it over to us in time by tomorrow." 

"We'll just have t' do it the long way, then." That same uncomfortable silence fell over them again as they bagged the colored vegetables, examining each one for bruises or damage before dropping it into one of several clear bags. Pyunma's attention was hardly on the task at hand, though. His eyes wandered over to the German for whatever reason and looked him over slowly. His stomach twisted painfully against his will, but why... A glare of light caught him right in the eye, and it the source was all too visible for comfort. "Does your hand hurt?" 

Albert, offset by the strange question, asked "Hmm?" He didn't need further elaboration, though: looking down at his right arm he realized the skin-like glove that concealed his metal hand had slipped off down to the thumb, exposing the dark gray steel. Quickly, though furtively, he tugged the material back with his other hand. A woman passed right behind them after that, and both cyborgs thanked their lucky stars that no one had seen anything that would cause a scene. "Thanks," Albert muttered under his breath. 

Much to both of the young mens' displeasure the rest of the shopping was done in almost complete silence.

* * *

It had taken them longer to get home than they'd expected. Apparently the mechanics working on the car had found several other problems with the automobile: the car was apparently leaking oil all throughout the machine, and the estimate was around fourteen-hundred dollars. Pyunma politely declined further work being done on Mr. Kozumi's car, though in the back of his mind he was growling, knowing he could have done it himself for pocket change. 

Somehow they got all the goods home in one trip, though the ride was very cramped. All in all six hours had gone by, but the event still wasn't over to the combat specialist. 

After having some of the other members of the team cart the many bags of food to the galley Pyunma went in search of Zero-Zero-Three. There was some unfinished business he had to deal with, he knew, and Francoise just seemed to be the one to talk to. 

She'd been sitting in the control center alone, relaxing after a long series of performance checks and maintenance runs. When he entered and saw that she was trying to rest he'd decided to hold his questions, as much as he didn't like it. Francoise, however, was awake and caught him before he could leave. 

"Was there something you needed, Zero-Zero-Eight?" 

"It can wait. I'm sorry for disturbing-" 

"Please, Zero-Zero-Eight. I heard you coming from three rooms away. If I had wanted to be left alone I could have taken measures to ensure it," she assured him with a smile. "What's on your mind?" 

Though the invitation was very welcoming, Pyunma still hesitated. It was a touchy subject he was about to bring up with her, but there was no way he could organize his thoughts alone. 

"I just... Well, I guess I'm looking for some advice." 

"Go on," she urged. 

"Ah... Have you ever... Well, le' me put it this way," he stuttered blankly. Francoise gazed at him patiently with her deep, green eyes. "I've been feeling a bit awkward 'round somebody, you know? When - er - _this person_ is just doing everyday things I get kind of... hmm..." 

"Vivacious?" she finished with a knowing smile, "Zero-Zero-Eight, I do believe you've become infatuated with 'this person'."He was hardly relieved that she had already figured out his plight. 

"That's what I was afraid of." 

"What? Why? You're an intelligent young man who deserves some happiness," she replied, but the look began to decay into one of disappointment, "Though, now is probably the worst of times to meet some one, considering we have to leave tomorrow..." 

"It's somebody inside our group," he uttered, suddenly finding his hands quite fascinating. He knew what she was thinking: she'd jump to the conclusion that he was pinning over her and would feel awkward. He decided to save her the worry. "It's not you, either." 

He'd missed her look of relief. She thought Zero-Zero-Eight as a very close friend, but as they both knew, her affections were set elsewhere. Even so, this did leave to another question. 

"Zero-Zero-Eight, I realize this may seem obvious to you, but if it's not me you've held an interest in, then that leaves six men, one doctor, and a baby." 

"I'm aware of that." 

She paused, her face not really giving much indication of how she was going to react. It didn't matter, regardless: Pyunma was too busy staring holes into the floor to be reading her expression. 

"Then, so you're... Well, it really is always the smart, cute ones..." He gaped at her absurdly, wondering if she knew that she was speaking her thoughts aloud when she had said that. "Who is it? And since when has this been happening? Do they even know?" 

"Please, Zero-Zero-Three. You're the only person that knows, and the only other person who ever will." 

"You're not going to pursue this?" she questioned sharply, apparently no longer bothered by the fact that the other had just made quite the stunning revelation. The firm shake of his head was his answer. "You can tell me who, at the very least." 

"No way." He wanted to leave right then, seriously regretting ever bringing the topic up. Ivan's hypnotic powers were something to be envious of at that point."They were both silent after that, and it was quite tense. She was focused on his eyes, looking for any hint or indication of what he was thinking (besides his urges to b-line straight for the door) while he made every attempt to hide it. The large room usually echoed every small noise one made, but at the moment it was entirely silent 

"Oh, it's Zero-Zero-Four, isn't it?" Pyunma could have fallen over. She wasn't even _asking_ if it was Heinrich - she already knew. And for Pyunma, trying to deny it with a furious blush by sputtering out phrases of denial only went so far when the woman had the horrible truth already figured. "Did something happen between you at the market today?" 

Tossing aside her inquiry, the African continued to rant on. "You can't say anything to him. Or to anyone else, Zero-Zero-Three. This will all blow over soon. Jus' promise me you won't say anything." 

"But how can you be sure that he doesn't share-" 

"_Just_... Promise me, Francoise." Using her own name was a nice touch, as it did get his desperate plea across. She was clearly discontented with the vow he was making her take. With a sigh she agreed to his demand. 

"All right. I promise I won't tell anyone." 

She didn't even wait until he had left until her mind began constructing a plan. Try as he might to keep them silent, Pyunma's emotions would not just 'blow over', and rather than let him be tormented by his own self the woman knew something would have to be done. Action would have to be taken, even if it wasn't he who made the first move. 

Francoise had made a point in her life of being a generally honest person. That would have to be creatively compromised, she'd decided.


	2. Religion

The world was filled with useless things.   
  
Religions that practically have no beliefs even remotely similar usually have a single law in common: to obtain a peaceful afterlife you must shed your worldly desires. The Hindus state that, to reach Nirvana, a person must be completely at one with themself without being a proverbial slave to earthly pleasures. The Buddhists hold a similar belief. Pagans who will reside in Summerland believe the key to eternal rest is to be a helpful, generous person during thier mortal lives. The Islamic Quran tells us that Allah's angels will come and ask a deceased person what they did with thier life previous to Judgment. Selfish men would obviously not gain peace in death.   
  
Still, none of this stopped humans from being so avaricious. There was always wants and needs that needed to be fulfilled so that a person's soul could be temporarily satisfied with what they had. Of course, it only took a more glamorous gemstone or better piece of technology to start the process over once again, trapping men and women in the cycle of vanity.  
  
The people that had been abducted and reconstructed into cyborgs were the result of one reature's greed. A war merchant who saw the profit in starting conflicts between countries and being the one to sell them thier weapons; that was Black Ghost. Answers about the enemy commanders history and true motives still evaded the rebels, but his immediate actions of terrorism to the world was enough for the nine demi-humans to form thier opinions.  
  
In the end it was these nine people who suffered because of greed. Everything they had ever known, loved, and fought for had been torn away and replaced with something strange and unnatural.  
  
Sometimes Albert Heinrich didn't even feel secure in his own body: it just wasn't _his_ anymore. This _thing_ had once been the place where the soul of a hard working lover had dwelled. Now it was an abomination to everything Albert had ever been; a slap in the face to everything he once stood for. It was a metal container for an essence that had lost his morals and couldn't figure himself out anymore. His body was his own prison.  
  
Eventually, this led to other questions. It had been fourty-something years since his one-sided partnership with Black Ghost began. How old was he now, really? Seventy-three, or seventy-four? His body should have grown decrepit over the decades, but cryogenic animation prevented that. So, what would happen now that he was no longer being artificially preserved?  
  
This question baffled the scientist known as Dr. Isaac Gilmore. The director of the cybernetic project had often wondered it himself, but never had one of his wards actually come to him and started to demand answers with a misleadingly polite voice like Zero-Zero-Four had that day.  
  
"Er... Could you specify more on what you're asking me?" said the doctor, resisting the urge to raise his eyebrow at the peculiar inquiry. The other inhabitants of the recreation room looked up curiously, all interested in the unfolding situation.  
  
"I just want to know what's supposed to happen to us." The usual deadpan expression on the Germans face suddenly grew more to one of serious concern. "I should be at least ten years older than you right now, but I'm not. We get shot at by machine guns and even they can't kill us. So, are we still human? I just... I don't understand."  
  
All eyes turned to the Russian expectantly, and despite the tension, Gilmore kept his wise demeanor. Everyone except for Zero-Zero-Three, Zero-Zero-Eight, and Zero-Zero-Nine was present, and though none of them were ready to jump right into the conversation, they all listened acutely. It was something they had all pondered on at one time or another, but had never actually gotten the drive to ask about.  
  
"Of course you're still human," he started with a small scoff, "Probably more so than some of the people we've met recently. I'm afraid that I can only tell you my speculations on this matter: I've made several conclusions based on my studies of how you will all age, but nothing can be concrete when you're the first of your kind. "You all know that you've been enhanced in different ways," he continued, addressing the entire group (as it was obvious to him that they were all listening), "The first generation is likely the most complex group, solely because we were ...still experimenting with the process, you understand."  
  
"How do you mean?"  
  
"Well, Zero-Zero-One's growth rate has significantly slowed since his metaphysical powers have become the focus of his development. Zero-Zero-Two's internal organs were refined to endure gravitational force at high speeds. You underwent similar procedures as he, though for diversified reasons, Zero-Zero-Four. Meanwhile, Zero-Zero-Three is mostly biological even yet, so age will likely affect her differently. All of you are different."  
  
For the first time another member of the congregation spoke up. "Yeah, so what about us with aluminum insides?" Jet asked, a sideways grin on his face, " 'We just walk around the earth 'till we rust?"  
  
"Hardly. Like all things, machines falter with time and wear, yes, but it is more likely that complications with your bodies and the cybernetic components will arise above all else. Then again, you may even die of brain cancer or such. I just know that in the earliest stages of our testing the animals occasionally began rejecting the artificial components after a sum of years. Not pleasant to hear, but if anything of that sort were to happen it would be almost impossible to help the situation."  
  
"Why's that?" Chang, who had been quite silent up until that point, asked with a shaken tone.  
  
"Well, say that your body began to reject your metallic heart. You could get a biological transplant, but since your body has become so adjusted to using a consistent, powerful organ, the new muscle would probably fail under the conditions."  
  
"This still doesn't answer my question." Albert, arms crossed firmly, took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. Dr. Gilmore waited patiently, though this left an uncomfortable silence that made the German inwardly cringe at. "How are we _supposed_ to die? We're lab projects, not people," he snapped angrily, and everyone nearby felt the tension rise drastically, "It's not going to be normal, is it? We aren't going to just be here one minute and gone the next. It'll be some sort of lagging, unnatural end that will drag out until we've deteriorated into nothing. It'll be a fascination to those who want to study it, and a joy for those who loathe us because we are the 'murderers' responsible for the deaths of people who had _families_. "So, now I'm asking you again: what will happen to us when we die?"  
  
The elder man paused, listening to the words over in his head. It only served as a delay to him shaking his head sadly, looking down at the floor while he searched for a way to clarify.  
  
"No, Zero-Zero-Four. That's not what you're asking me. What you want to know is what happens _after_ you die, and I can't answer that. It's a question that had plagued humanity for thousands of years; I doubt anyone can tell you for sure."

Albert seemed to take this in sadly, looking as though he had already come to this conclusion himself. It was too late for the good doctor to realize that the cyborg had been seeking some sort of reassurance on the morose topic rather than pursuing answers without a predeveloped idea. Where the German's string of out of place questions originated from suddenly became apparent as he walked out, leaving a bewildered group to thier own.  
  
"Now, what the hell was that all about?" Jet asked pretentiously to no one in particular. Expectedly, he received no immediate response.  
  
_"His mind is very disconcerted."_ Gilmore was impressed with himself when Zero-Zero-One's intrusion on his thoughts didn't cause him to jump out of his skin. From the lack of reaction from the other people in the room it was likely the infant was speaking only to him. _"It's not my place to violate his contemplations, but he clearly needs to be spoken with. It would seem you have an idea of what is bothering him, Doctor. Perhaps you should be the one to talk with him." _It wasn't a request.  
  
In the back of his mind Gilmore sighed tiredly. He felt like a grandfather to an extended family that had unconsciously shouldered the responsibility of holding everyone together. Stress was a major factor of war; any idiot could tell you that. But for some, however, the breaking point was more easily reached than in others. Zero-Zero-Four, for example, had a bad habit of keeping his aberration hidden behind his stoic demeanor, detectable only to those keen enough to see it.   
  
It was understandable. Of all the cases Gilmore had read up on of his 'family', Zero-Zero-Four's story was undoubtedly one of the most traumatic. Admittedly, his wasn't the _worst_ of all the cyborgs - he'd lived well up until the time of his abduction, - but it was still an experience that would have shattered any young lover's world. Zero-Zero-Four had every reason to snap his line, though what triggered his outburst today was still a mystery.  
  
The German wasn't hard to locate, but that could have been because he hadn't gone out of his way to hide. In all honesty, Albert had actually hoped somebody come after him. It was an awkward impulse: usually he felt like being alone after thinking about _her_, but today was different for whatever reason. So, in response to this unusual desire for company, the galley was where he had retreated to.   
  
He hadn't expected the Doctor to be the one to pursue him. Yes, it made sense; the man knew most of his background, history, and state of mind, but Heinrich felt that things would be better if somebody who didn't know him so well had been there instead. It would have made things a lot less uncomfortable, at least.  
  
"Time can only heal so much when you continuously rip open the wounds, Zero-Zero-Four."  
  
"I can't just force her out of my mind," said the blonde slowly.  
  
"And you shouldn't try to. You should always remember your devotion to your wife. It will hurt, but you can't torment yourself for the rest of your life with knowing what you had at one time is now gone." The doctor put his hands in his jacket pockets idly and crossed the room, nearing the pantry cupboards. "Care for some tea?"  
  
"No, thanks."  
  
"Never forget your loves," Gilmore continued to finish his last thought, "but don't cling to the memory of them as though they are your final life line. You'll only drive yourself mad if you do."   
  
"I think you told me that a little too late." The reply came with a good natured grin which was actually genuine, and quite rare.  
  
"I'd like to give you some time off, but I'm afraid there's only so many places one can relax while on a submarine in the middle of nowhere."  
  
"It's all right. I think I've gotten about as much vacation time as I can handle in the past few weeks. Back home I never would have seen myself traveling around the world this much."  
  
"You see? There are advantages to taking on an evil syndicate of murderers and death merchants for the good of humanity."  
  
"Heh. Right. 'Get to go to exotic places, meet exciting people..."  
  
" '...And kill them'," Gilmore finished the sadistic quote with an uncharacteristically placid smile. "Speaking of which, and pardon the change to this topic, but have you had the pleasure of talking with Zero-Zero-Eight?"  
  
"It wasn't so much of a conversation _with_ him as it was _at_ him. I could have been talking to the wall and he wouldn't have noticed me."   
  
"I do hope that you know what I'm about to ask you to do," said the Doctor, dropping a tea bag into the empty cup he had retrieved.  
  
"I'll try to pull him back into the world of the living tonight," Heinrich assured.   
  
"Thank you, Zero-Zero-Four. He seems to respond more to you than to the rest of us, for some reason."

* * *

Not being the one to break his word (as that was often all a poor man had that was worth anything), Albert did actually seek out Zero-Zero-Eight after supper that evening. A supper which the African cyborg had managed to miss, despite the dinner call over the ship's intercom system.  
  
Pyunma had his reasons for detaching himself, and they were all justified. A person, regardless of how mechanical they are physically, does not easily get over having to kill thier once-best friend. It was a horrible thing that had to be done, but in this new world it was kill or be killed. At least Zero-Zero-Eight had given his friend a chance to go back, and when the chance was lost Pyunma had to fire out of self-defense.  
  
Is it self-defense if you knew they were going to shoot you when given the opportunity?  
  
Although it was nearly nine o'clock in thier current time zone, the Dolphin was so brightly lit that anyone could have been fooled into thinking in was noon up at the surface. Albert thought about how quickly time seemed to pass now: they'd left Japan about six weeks ago, then the Arctic, then France, England, and Muanba... It'd just felt like a few days, but in fact nearly another two months of Albert's life had come and gone.  
  
Rather abruptly, the German was pulled from his day dreaming by a small impact to the back of his head. Reflexively, he swung around just in time to see a sleek form run off behind the corner - it _had_ to have been Zero-Zero-Three. He would have pursued her out of curiosity if the projectile in question, a small paper note, that was laying at his feet hadn't caught his eye.

* * *

Since most everyone had gathered in the recreation area, and Joe and Francoise were probably off doing _something else_, Pyunma had settled in the abandoned control station. The entire ship was currently on auto pilot, practically operating itself and ready for combat. Still, the African felt a sense of duty to man the vessel in case of trouble. That, and the fact that he wanted a little time to think.  
  
The likelihood of that, however, dropped when the automatic door hissed open. Pyunma didn't look over his shoulder to see who it was; several adjacent screens reflected the image of Zero-Zero-Four loitering about. That familiar, painful twist began cramping in Zero-Zero-Eight's stomach again.  
  
"I guess I missed dinner, huh?" he asked, though he wasn't even thinking about food at all.  
  
"We put aside some for you in case you get hungry," came the distracted reply. Pyunma guessed at what was coming next, and he was quite right. "So... Are you all right?" The dark skinned man swiveled the chair around, actually making eye contact with the other cyborg, but he glanced back down at the floor after only a few seconds.  
  
"It's been a bad week, but it's been bad b'fore."  
  
"We always perservere in the end."  
  
"Yes... At the cost of how many lives?"  
  
"That cost isn't set by us. That's Black Ghost's doing. You know that, Zero-Zero-Eight."  
  
"It wasn't Black Ghost who pulled the trigger on Yimado."  
  
"But it was Black Ghost who killed him." The blonde took a seat on another one of the control chairs. He was across the room, almost, but Pyunma straightened up as though the German was practically in his face. "You don't need me to tell you that your friend was gone long before we even got to Muanba. Yimado'd already been murdered; you were just the one who stopped him from killing others."  
  
"I... I know that. In my mind, I do, but in my heart..."  
  
"It will always hurt. The most we can really do is bear our losses and try to move on. It sounds insensitive of me to say that, but you're hearing it from the voice of experience, trust me."  
  
The African nodded slowly, suddenly able to only look down and away from Zero-Zero-Four. He was ashamed with himself suddenly, aware that his longing for the other was intensifying with the conversation. But now seemed to be the time to speak up, though. It was the first time in weeks he and Zero-Zero-Four had been alone; this may be the opportunity that he'd been waiting for to have this conversation.  
  
Self-doubt began to overtake Pyunma. He didn't want to destroy what was a promising friendship with Zero-Zero-Four, but carrying around this evil little secret with him all the time was only adding to the building stress. So, he could either reveal the emotions he strived so hard not to share and lose a friend, or he could live with the mortification of his heart in shame.   
  
Deductive reasoning really is a disheartening way to think.  
  
"Listen, Zero-Zero-Four. I have something I need to tell you," he started, fighting back the lump in his throat, pain in his chest, and falter in his voice all at once. His eyes still would raise to meet the other. _No turning back, now._  
  
The questioning look on Albert's face quickly turned, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yes. I know."  
  
"What? I don't think you do-"  
  
"Yes. Yes, I do." Albert held up a small paper square and flipped it between his fingers idly, "Here. Some croissant eater threw this at me on my way down here." He tossed the note to a curious Pyunma. That fact that the outside of the folded paper had "Read Me!" written on it on both sides made the African only wonder. When he straightened out the parchment he came to realize that the handwriting was quite perfect, and identical to that of Francoise's writing on her grocery lists.   
  
_"Zero-Zero-Four,  
It just so happens that a certain somebody on this ship happens to like another certain somebody. And this anonymous writer happens to know that these two people are going to be meeting soon (Hint, hint!). Watch your words; don't hurt his feelings. It would be convenient if this paper would self destruct, but that was just way too much. Please, just throw it away when you're done."_   
  
Pyunma looked up at a complete loss for words, but Albert, smirking extensively, took care of that.  
  
"God, love the French." 


End file.
